Try Again
by MagnoliaSunrise
Summary: Tragedy and torture constantly followed Vanora, right up to the day she was sold into prostitution by her Uncle-cum-Step-Father. Some unexpected events, however, will change her life forever. MxF.   Feedback would be the best thing ever!
1. Chapter 1

_Vanora_

Vanora gazed longingly at the birds soaring across the evening sky. The setting sun transformed the horizon into a red blaze, invoking the illusion of a burning sea. In the distance tiny islands were just barely visible, framed in the light, looking all the world like jewels from King Varian's crown.

The beauty of the moment belied the reality, one which the young human girl did not wish to be a part of. Grim and dark, with little hope in sight. The jostling of the ship amongst the oceans waves startled her out of the trance. Vanora looked around, taking in her surroundings once again. She was aboard a cargo ship, a tiny one at that. With barely enough room for the hoard of legitimate goods and crew of fifteen it carried, toss in an extra 20 slave girls, and you've got yourself a dangerously loaded ship.

It lurched against the waters, creaking disconcertingly. A dark-skinned girl groaned, in fear or sickness it wasn't clear, but it hardly mattered. If she died, it just meant more room for the remainder of the unhappy journey, if she lived, well, nothing changed. Each girl was chained to a steal ring embedded in the wooden hull. The rings would leak occasionally, giving rise to panic over the ship possibly sinking, or not sinking fast enough. Prayers for salvation would rise from their throats, unheeded and unnoticed. Calm would eventually take hold again, and they'd forget what they had panicked about in the first place. Vanora wasn't sure what she prayed for in those times, even doubtful that she prayed at all. It was death, she decided. Death was preferable to what agony lay ahead of them in this unknown land. Looking toward the porthole, watching for the birds, she gave way to buried memories fighting to the surface.

At the age of thirteen she lost her Father, Llane. Her Mother, Mirine, told her that he died valiantly fighting during one of the many wars, the war in question, however, changed every time she retold it. In reality, as her Uncle Darin, later her Step-Father, told her, her Father had died as a result of wounds received from fighting with a Dwarven prostitute whom he owed money. Little did Llane know, he had also contracted a disease from the prostitute, which eventually claimed Mirine three years later. Scarcely before her Mother's death, Darin's abuse of his niece and step-Daughter was well underway. For another three years, she suffered him alone. Vanora had been with child, his child, prior to being sold. Thankfully she was only a few months along when Darin went into a drunken rage weeks before the sale, and beat the child out of her. It was just as well; if she had given birth early during the voyage, the thing might have been used as bait or just thrown over board, if she made the voyage without miscarrying or dying to whatever other misfortune could befall her, it would probably been sold into slavery and prostitution just like its mother.

'_Yes,'_ she thought again, '_Death was certainly better than this.._.'

_Den'ze_

Lazing in the golden white sand, Den'ze idly scanned the fiery horizon. His long blue legs stretched out before him, inches from the chilly waters. He thought of going for a quick dip before turning in, but decided against it, not feeling like rinsing the salt out of his red hair tonight. Behind him he could hear the twins, Thabo and Themba, running in the sand towards him, arguing to themselves.

"Den! Den'ze!" Themba sang out as she neared him, her voice was jagged and out of breath, probably from trying to keep up with her much faster brother, Thabo.

"Ya, whatchoo wan'?"

"Mat'a say dat Pad'a tink a storm be comin'-"Themba smirked at Thabo, then dropped to the sand beside her oldest brother, happy with finally beating him in a race, but exhausted.

"An' dat ya should come back an' stay at de home wid us tonight." Thabo finished the message as he sat on the other side of his sister.

"Nah, mon, I be fine where I'm at. Tell Mat'a not ta worry. 'Sides, de old mon is always tinkin' dere be a storm comin'. "

"But dis time he really tink it gonna be a big assed storm!" Themba sounded sincerely worried at the thought of her oldest brother out in a 'big assed' storm.

"And ya knows Mat'a be pissed at us for not bringing ya back-"

"She gonna hex us into next month!"

"Fuck next month! She gonna hex us ta next year!" Thabo's eyes were wide with fear just thinking about returning to face their mother's wrath without their big brother. They were old enough to choose a profession and fight in the armies, even to start trying to court a mate, yet the thought of their mother angry still made them shudder with fear.

'_Not dat I blame dem_.' Den'ze thought, ' _Mat'a pissed is enough ta make de Scourge turn tail and run..._'

"Fine, fine, I'll go back wid ya." He said, straightening up, "I'll protect ya from de big, bad Mat'a. Give me a couple minutes. I need ta get some tings from de house. "

"Don't forget ta bring Zolani!" Themba called after him. Zolani was his Purple Raptor, and perhaps one of the only good things to come out of Den's time in the army.

Den'ze walked the few short feet to his house he and his father and brother had built themselves. It wasn't huge, but it wasn't small like the houses back in the village, and it was exactly where he wanted it; as close to the beach as possible and secluded; nestled inside a little cove and as far away from the village as his mother would allow. Sure, he got the reputation for being a bit like a hermit because of it, but he didn't mind. His privacy meant more to him than what the gossip mongers thought.

Grabbing a small rucksack, he tossed a few things in there; his Alchemy notebook, some clothes, things he'd probably need in the morning. Den'ze looked around his home. Again, it wasn't huge, but bigger than most of the village homes. Using curtains to divide the home when necessary, it had two bedrooms, a small kitchen, and something akin to a study. There was no bathroom, per se, but a small room off to the back of the house with a big tub for bathing built into the floor. He had an outhouse outside, behind the main house. He shook his head and laughed, remembering when they built it that his mother insisted on a 'two seater', an out house with two separate holes, one for men, the other for women, in case he ever had any female friends over. His father rolled his eyes and said "As if that will ever happen."

'_Pad'a didn't know how right he'd be.'_ Den'ze thought sourly. The last time he had brought a girl home was a long time ago, and despite being matched by the village Shaman, it ended badly. So badly, in fact, that he still had the scars to prove it. Shaking his head again, Den turned around and left, grabbing his mount's reigns and walking back to the village with his baby brother and sister beside him.


	2. Chapter 2

_Vanora _

The ship rocked violently, rolling along the angry ocean, crashing through the rabid, foaming waters. The steel rings were leaking furiously each time the hull met a wave, drenching the already bone-soaked and freezing girls. The dark-skinned one was crying, begging for a saviour, while a small group of Gnomes were praying to the Holy Light. Vanora just leaned against the soaked wood, trying to remain calm and quiet, thinking of a means to escape, but it was futile.

A torrential down pour of rain plummeted the vessel while the wind whipped the now-tattered sails in every which direction, forcing them off course. Pelting from the Heavens, rising from the black depths, rain and waves tortured the poor, little boat. It was only a matter of time before they would be over come.

The thunder raged like wild horses, while Vanora tried to gather her thoughts. She could hear shouts and cries coming from above. The thud and thump of feet on the deck echoed throughout the small cargo hold. Lightening flashed, and for a moment, she could see the hunched, near-naked forms of the other women, shivering. Terror gripped them, enclosing them like an iron casket, holding them hostage.

It was then Vanora made up her mind not to be like them, not to give up so easily anymore. Standing calf-deep in the water, she grabbed the ring she was shackled to, and pulled. Nothing. She pulled again, and again, harder and longer each time. Vanora was about to give up when she heard it. The faint sound of splintering wood. Some of the others raised their heads, watching her with their hopeless or cynical expressions. Each thought she would fail, just get tired and settle back down to accept their fate. She refused to.

With renewed hope, Vanora pulled again, mustering more strength than she had ever before possessed. The wood splintered again, and with each successive tug, it cracked more and more. The others were still watching, but this time with great interest, especially the dark-skinned girl. More water was rushing in. What was once calf-deep was now knee deep. Vanora hurriedly tugged on the ring one last time. This time it gave way, and with it she lost her footing, sending her flying onto the flooded floor. She was free! Though her hands still carried chains, the ring that held them together was no more.

Standing shakily, Vanora looked at the hole. Water was gushing in now. Thunder still roared in the sky, and the rain was not letting up. She turned to face the others. Each woman there was staring back at her in awe or fear, dumbstruck as to what to do next.

"Come on you damned fools!" she yelled, "Get yourselves free! Stand up! Pull!" She grabbed the dark girl's ring and began pulling again. Some stood and began to pull, but many ignored her. She let go of the ring and grabbed one of the Gnomes, "Do something! Don't let them defeat you like this! Fight back!" But the Gnome just shook her head.

"What's the point? If we live, you know what will happen. If we die, well... Just let the Light take me..."

Vanora felt she was about to slap the little Gnome, when she a deathly cold hand was laid on her arm. She turned to see the dark girl, staring at her with nearly vacant, green eyes. Slowly, the girl reached up and undid a small locket around her neck. She wrapped her arms around Vanora's and fastened the chain.

"Please... I know I'm... I won't make it. I can't. Even if I could, what these men, no, what these monsters did to us... I can't face the shame. But you are so much stronger. They haven't broken you. Not yet. Don't let them..."

Vanora was about to respond when they heard screams from above them. There was a short, desperate silence before the wave crashed against the ship, nearly ripping it in two. She was pulled out by the force of the waters. But not before she could hear the agonizing cries of the women still chained. Not before she could see the look on their faces as death approached. Not before Vanora saw the dark-skinned girl smile, so sweet and soft. So sad. The smile was the last thing Vanora saw before darkness overcame her, and she fell into unconsciousness.

_Den'ze_

Den'ze woke with a start. Someone was yelling. Confused and slightly disoriented, he stumbled out of bed and stretched. Looking around he realized he was at his parent's home, and that it was his mother that was yelling. He chuckled to himself. His mother yelling at someone this early in the morning was not an unheard of occurrence. Pulling on some pants and lacing them up, Den'ze walked out to the kitchen, bracing himself for what ever the old woman had in store.

"Mat'a, wat in de name of Bwonsamdi is all de racket about?" He wasn't quite prepared for the powerful smack upside his head. His mother was a tiny for a troll, but did she ever pack a punch. His father always said that the lighter the blue and greener the hair, the meaner they were.

"Don'choo dare take de name of de Sacred Guardian of de Dead in vain, boy! Whachoo tinkin you be too big for ya Mat'a to still give ya a good beatin?" she wacked him on the back of his head again, "An' whachoo doin gettin up so late? Ya tink dis is some kinda resort, ya can just sit back an' relax?", another wack, "Get outta here an' go help ya Pad'a an' brudda patch de roof. Dey been up since dawn tryin ta fix it widout ya!"

"But Mat'a, I ain't even have breakfast ye-"

"Breakfast? It nearly be lunch time! Now get outta here before I smack up ya lazy ass some more, boy!"

"Yes, Mat'a." he grumbled. Stepping out onto the porch, he could hear his sister, father and brother laughing.

"So, de old lady didn't give ya nuthin to eat, eitha, my boy?" his father asked, sympathetically.

"Wat crawled up her ass dis mornin'?"

"Not wat be up her ass dat be da problem, son, wat landed on it be da better question."

"De wind from da storm made part of de roof collapse dis mornin'." Themba giggled, "Landed right on toppa her! We were surprised ya didn' hear da roar she made!"

"We thought she was gonna go Primal, mon! She woke up da neighbours, she woke up da boars, she even woke up Zolani!" Thabo said, gesturing to the purple form hiding behind some palm-trees, "Zol been scared shitless eva since!"

Den laughed at the raptor. Zolani was a strong, beautiful specimen, fighting alongside Den'ze for many years against many vicious foes, yet even she knew instinctively not to get in the way of his mother's warpath. Hearing her master's voice, the raptor sheepishly walked over, and crouched down, allowing him to pet her. He could hear her stomach growling.

"Alright, girl, no need for ya ta starve wid de rest of us. Go on, catch something." Making her odd little noises, Zolani nuzzled her master's hand before bolting off towards the beach in search of food. Turning towards the house, he picked up some rope from the porch, "Now den, I s'pose we betta get dis finished up wid before Mat'a denies us lunch, too."

_Vanora_

Awaking to searing agony every time the salt water would find its way into her throat and lungs, she wondered if this were purgatory. She coughed and sputtered while struggling to stay afloat. In her mind's eye, the image of the dark woman's smile was still there, forever burned into her psyche. She could still hear their cries ringing in her ears. Closing her mind against the memory, she drifted along the waves, falling off their rolling backs, being lulled again into a deeper darkness.

_Den'ze_

It only took Den'ze and his siblings a couple hours to finish patching the roof, under the careful super vision of their father and constant threats of their mother's back hand. But after they were done, she had warmed up considerably, cooing and kissing and fawning over them as if they were just back from war. After having a huge meal of boiled Surf Crawler, Den decided it was time to head back to his own house. He mounted up Zolani, hopped on and was off like the wind. Racing through the village and across the sandy beaches on his beautiful, fast raptor took merely maybe half an hour, where by foot it would be sun down before he got back.

As he was nearing the homestead, Den'ze noticed a small form lying on the golden sand near the tide. He pulled the reigns and steadied the raptor into a slow trot. They moved cautiously towards the figure in the sand. From a distance it looked to be a brown-haired Blood elf, but it's ears weren't right. He climbed off of Zol, and crouched beside it. It was a girl. Lightly sweeping her hair from her face, he saw that she was very pale and sickly, but despite that she was unmistakeably beautiful. Looking her over, he saw chains on her tiny wrists, her arms and legs were bruised, and she was just so small. He tucked her hair behind her ears and recoiled. She was a human! Den'ze jumped up and took a couple steps back. Swearing vehemently, he began to pace.

"A human! A Gods-be-damned human! Of course I had ta find de only fuckin' human dis side of de Barrens!" he yelled. If someone saw him with her, the implications could be catastrophic. With his mind racing, trying to figure out what to do with a human on Horde Territory, he noticed debris scatter along the beach. It was from a boat. A ship wreck, that's how she got here. He looked at her form lying on the ground again. So weak and vulnerable. His heart ached at the thought of leaving a defenceless, injured animal on its own, let alone another person. Shaking his head, he walked back to her and knelt down beside her. He could see she was breathing, but it was too shallow. He felt her face, and it was hot like a blaze. Cursing himself, and this time his morals, he gently picked her up.

"Come on, Zol, let's get going." Den'ze sighed, as he and his mount walked the rest of the way to his home.


	3. Chapter 3

_**I guess I should state that I don't own WoW, or anything to do with WoW, Blizard, etc etc. Also, sorry it took me so long to update and for such a short chapter, been kind of busy lately. I hate cutting things short, but I *absolutely* promise to make up for it in the next chapter! Scout's Honour! Anyway, on to ze story! - xox Magnolia**_

_Vanora_

_Vanora's mind drifted as if she were again on the waves. Still submerged in the darkness that had claimed her merely hours before, her consciousness was roaming. She thought she could feel another presence with her, holding her, but she couldn't grasp the idea long enough to understand it. _

_ Half opening one eye, the light was much too bright. Heaven? No. More probably than not, Hell. Vanora thought she caught a glimpse of hair, wild and fire red, and of blue skin, but before she could figure out what it meant, darkness claimed her again, encompassing her mind, heart and soul._

_Den'ze_

Reaching home just after nightfall, Den'ze climbed the short stairs and walked into the dark house. Finding the way to his bed, he gently laid the girl down, and covered her with a soft, worn fur. Gathering some candles, he lit them and then sat beside the tiny form. He ran a hand through his thick hair, trying to make sense of what he just did and why.

Bitterly, and belatedly, he realized the girl's clothes were still soaking wet. Grumbling his annoyance, Den'ze pulled the fur back. Again, he was struck at just how small she was. So petite and slight, she looked fragile, delicate. He was suddenly afraid to touch her, fearful of damaging the girl further, but the thought of her fever getting worse, and the fact that she was soaking his straw mattress, convinced him otherwise.

Grabbing a small knife, he lightly sliced through the bits of flimsy fabric holding her dress together. It was threadbare, thin and stained, hardly worth calling a dress. Pulling the cloth from her body, his breath caught in his chest; she was heart-achingly beautiful. Soft, supple skin, so pale it was nearly translucent. His eyes burned a trail from her refined, delicate face, down to the nape of her neck, onward to her round, full breasts, when he noticed bruises there as well. From the shoulders down her body was rife with blue, purple, even yellowing marks. Red welts, some healing and some very fresh, riddled her breasts, hips and thighs. Strawberry gashes covered her back, one on top of another, as if she were brutally whipped.

Den'ze felt a burning in his chest, an anger so fierce it shook him to his core. The savagery this unknown girl had suffered awoke something in him he thought he had lost years ago. The fact that she was a human didn't dampen his ire. The chains on her wrists and the damage to her body made him certain she was a slave of some kind, yet even he knew slaves didn't deserve to be treated this way. He quickly covered her with the fur again.

Standing up, he pulled the curtain across to afford her some privacy, and walked to the spare cot. Sitting on the edge of it, he was suddenly overcome with guilt; guilt for staring at her the way he did, guilt for finding her, even guilt for her treatment at the hands of whoever abused her. He couldn't make any sense of why he felt that way, he just did. One thing was certain, though, she was his responsibility now, regardless of the consequences, until she became well enough to move on. He vowed to take care of her, and then help her find the way back to where ever she came from.

"_Yes,"_ he thought, _"I'll help her. I'll even kill da bastards dat did dis to her..." _Settling in, Den'ze smiled to himself, his white teeth gleaming in the candle light.

_Vanora_

_Running in an abyss of nothing, trying to escape some unseen danger, she was a child again. Invisible hands reached from every which direction, pulling and grabbing and pinching. Constantly morphing terrain caused her to trip and stumble. Screaming out, needing someone to save her, Vanora was filled with an animalistic, primal terror. They were going to kill her. _

_ Feeling as if she were running for an eternity down this endless black cavern, she needed to stop, to catch her breath, but her fear wouldn't let her. It commanded her to run, faster, harder and farther. A sadistic laugher echoed throughout her mind, and with it came promises of pain and anguish. It was startlingly familiar and filled her with a cold dread so vicious it made her shiver._

"_This is Hell... I'm in Hell..." The thought struck her like a punch to the stomach, "I'm in Hell because of what I've done. Because of what my family has done..."_

_ Suddenly Vanora was thrust into a pit of despair. Emotions bombarded her, smothering her will to flee. The hands groped and tugged on her skin angrily, forcing her to slow down. Collapsing upon herself, she choked out a sob and held her breath, waiting for a grisly end to her nightmare._

_ Instead a calm, soft and loving, slowly came over her. Warm and serene, it eased her fears and soothed her torment. It encompassed her, held her, bringing comfort to her broken body, as if it were healing her. Crying out again, this time in thanks and relief, she let the warmth travel her body, caressing every inch of her, until finally she let it lull her into sweet, happy dreams._

_Den'ze_

Unexpectedly jolted out of sleep, Den'ze rubbed his eyes, trying to remember what it was that woke him up. He thought he had heard something, but wasn't exactly sure. Straining his ears against the deafening silence, he concluded that he has just dreamt whatever the noise was. Cursing the rudely imaginary intrusion upon his entirely unwholesome dream, he rolled back over to try and sleep.

On the edge of welcomed dormancy, he thought he heard it again; a barely audible whimper. Frowning, he climbed out of bed and went to check on the girl. She was tossing and turning, quietly crying in her sleep. He rubbed her cheek and began to hum a lullaby his mother would sing to him when he was little and ill. She quieted slightly, but cried out again when he stopped.

With a sigh of resignation, he slipped in beside her. Rolling her onto her stomach, he began to hum again and rubbed the girl's back, tracing his hand over her ribs, gliding his fingers gently over each vertebra. Den'ze couldn't help but think again how she was much too thin. Remembering the promise he made just a few hours ago, he smiled viciously. He continued to rub her back until she calmed and slept soundly, eventually drifting off to his own strange dreams.


	4. Chapter 4

_Vanora_

Awakening to the warmth of the sun on her face and the heat of a body next to hers, Vanora smiled. Without opening her eyes, she rolled over and snuggled closer to the warm, muscular body, which groaned in approval. She wrapped an arm around the torso, and inhaled its scent. Startled by the unfamiliar earthy, sweaty smell, her eyes snapped open. Blue skin. Fear and confusion settled in as she bolted upright, and took in the sight of the very large, partially naked, sleeping troll. Struggling to get out of the covers and off the bed, Vanora became tangled in the sheets and fur, and tumbled to the floor.

Sitting on the floor in a puddle of blankets, Vanora tried to remain calm and quiet. With immense relief, she could hear the troll still snoring softly. Regaining her composure, she attempted to stand, bracing herself against an end table. She pulled a thin sheet around herself, for the illusion of modesty, and straightened her back. The room swirled and spun around her as she took a first step to try and walk. With each consecutive step, her vision danced, confusing Vanora further, giving her a nauseating sensation. Letting go of the table, the girl faltered slightly, but quickly regained her stance and footing. Breathing heavily, she pushed back the curtain and tried to make her way towards what she thought was a door; freedom.

Feeling the sweat trickling down the curve of her spin sent shivers across her body. Despite the sweltering heat, she was chilled to her core and only getting worse with every second. The nauseous feeling hit her again, but with full force this time, and she retched silently, bracing against a wall. Looking to where the light was filtering in from under the gap in the door, she thought it looked much too far away.

"_Oh Father, please give me the strength to do this..." _she silently prayed.

Pushing off from the wall, the girl stumbled again, and cursing her weakness, fell to the floor. She squeezed her eyes shut to stop the flood of tears as she realized the monster was now awake. The troll stretched and sat up, scratching his head. He looked surprised when he saw the little human staring at him from the floor. Smirking, he got up and walked towards her. Vanora found herself paralyzed with terror. She had heard many stories and rumours about trolls and what they did to humans; none of them brought her any comfort. Realizing she was still naked, save for the sheet, and had actually spent the night in bed with the vile creature made her sick again. Only the Gods knew what he had done to her throughout the night, and she prayed that he wouldn't dare demonstrate now that she was awake. Bile rose in her throat at the thought, and just as she was about to spill it onto herself, he lifted her gently and held back her hair. Dry heaves wracked her body as sea water and stomach acid soaked into the blanket, and despite getting some on him, the troll never let go of her or her hair.

Discarding the cloth, he gingerly picked up the severely weakened human and carried her back to the bed. Vanora's head lolled from side to side in near-unconsciousness as he walked, yet she still struggled against his chest. Laying her down and covering her with the same fur from the night before, he chuckled and sat on the edge of the bed. The troll began to hum something, a song that Vanora had heard before, but she couldn't remember from where. She stopped struggling to get away from him and just listened, closing her eyes and letting the song carry her away to sweeter times, before her family fell apart and her life with it. Tears again welled up in her eyes, but this time she could not stop them. The troll wrapped his arms around her and rocked. She didn't have the strength to fight him, and in truth, she needed the comfort. While she sobbed in his arms, he rubbed her back and hummed louder.

Vanora let it all out, crying away her anger and fear and pain. She cried for her mother and father and all their wrongs. For her dead innocence, her shredded dignity and broken pride. She cried for her guilt and shame over her hatred and love for her uncle. For her dead child and what it could have been and what it was. Vanora cried until her face was red and swollen and raw, until the tears stung her cheeks and there were none left to fall. Pulling her face away from the troll's chest, she saw that it was soaked with mucus and tears.

"I'm sorry..." She said, quietly, and hiccupped a small laugh. The troll shrugged, a gaelic gesture, and wiped her face with his hand, so gently she could have cried again. She realized belatedly that he posed no danger to her, at least not right now. He was probably waiting for her to strengthen up before he tried anything, but the simple kindness he was showing her right now meant more than anything else he could have done.

"T-thank you... So much..." Vanora whispered as she leaned back on his chest. Maybe he couldn't understand her words, but she still felt the need to express her gratitude in some way, and hopefully delay the inevitable.

He mumbled something in his heathen language, and rested against the headboard of the bed, pulling her down with him. He began stroking her hair, smoothing it in light, rhythmic motions. They stayed that way until she fell asleep from exhaustion again. He slipped out of the bed, and knelled beside it. Taking her hand, he held it to his lips for a moment, before getting up to let her sleep for a few hours.

_Den'ze_

Den'ze walked to the porch and rested against the wall of his house. Before, his plans for the human were laid out perfectly in his mind, and stupidly he didn't count on her waking up any time soon. Now that the girl was awake, he had no idea what to do, with her or for her. She seemed terrified of him, and given the circumstances, Den'ze could not blame her. Hell, if he were in her place, he'd have probably killed someone and tried to escape by now. But the fact that she had let him comfort her also made him sure she knew that he just wanted to help. Maybe if he had said something to her, it would have eased her fear, if just a little. He did know a little Common, after all, just enough to aid him while he was in a 'Neutral' town, like Gadgetzhan, Ratchet or Booty Bay.

"Yeah, sure mon. Scare de poor girl more by butcherin' 'er native tongue." He mocked himself, "Whacha gonna say to de leetle human anway? 'Ya, I found ya on de beach. Just thought I'd take ya home an' strip ya an' sleep wid ya!'" A soft blush crept up his cheeks as he thought about what he had just said. He did sleep with her, just not in the literal sense. They had slept in the same bed, albeit unknowingly on her part, and he had comforted her. It was entirely innocent, but it was still more intimacy than anything he had experienced in months.

Shaking his head, trying to get that thought out of his mind, Den'ze called to Zolani. The purple beast growled in delight at seeing her master, and waited patiently as he filled the water trough. She drank her fill and nuzzled his shoulder in thanks before suddenly looking up and darting off towards the village. Shielding his eyes against the sun and squinting towards the horizon, he saw the Raptor stop a few yards out to let a small figure on its back and turned to run back to the house.

Den'ze smiled in recognition as he saw the wild, green hair of his baby sister being tossed about as Zol raced back to him. Raising a hand in greeting, he sat back on the steps and waited for them. Twice a week, Themba would come to see him, more if he hadn't been to the village in a while, to help him with small things around the house, to share the village gossip and to scheme how get out of their mother's plans for their respective future marriages. Hers always involved Sapping the old woman and Stealthing for the hills. From the look of the sack she was carrying, today Themba had come to bring him some much needed groceries.

"Well, well, well! Did Mat'a send ya out 'ere wid all dat, or did ya do it outta de goodness of ya heart?"

"She said she'd gut me like a boar an' roast me if I didn't bring ya some'ting from Thabo's haul... Speakin' of boar, dere be a few hunks of boar meat in dere, too!"

Den'ze's grin became wider. That meant an easy breakfast for Zolani, and a decent dinner for him that night. And his guest, if she would be up to eating.

"I'll just put dese in da root cellar for ya, den we can get wit de chores." Themba said, as she dismounted Zol, and headed for the stairs.

"Wait, wait, nah mon, dats alright!" Den'ze felt his heart leap in his chest at the thought of his sister finding the girl in his bed, "I'll do dat, you can... Get to cleanin' Zolani's pen out back! Okie dokie?" he said, taking the rucksack from Themba's hands and running back into the house.

The root cellar doors, which looked liked a regular set of floorboards, minus a barely noticeable groove to serve as a handle, were directly under the spare bed, perfectly concealed, and a fantastic hiding spot in case of a Northwatch Foothold raid, or a visit from his mother. Instead of going into the cellar, however, Den just tossed the bag on the table, grabbing a chunk of meat for the Raptor on the way back out. Tossing the meat to her, he ran around to the back of the home, and watched for a moment as his baby sister grunted and groaned as she shovelled manure and bits of old nest out of the pen.

"I neva thought any ting could be full of more shit den Mat'a. I was wrong." She grimaced.

"Now don'chu go insultin my baby, she don't deserve to be compared to de old woman." Den'ze laughed. He grabbed an arm full of branches and straw from a nearby pile, and laid it next to Zol's nest, which had been partially destroyed by the storm from the other night. Zol trotted over and began pecking through the pile, trying to find the best pieces and went about repairing her little home.

'_I betta get to it, too.' _Den thought. With a sigh, he picked up a shovel and started clearing out the pen with his sister.

Some time later, when they were more than half-way finished, Themba stopped and sniffed the air. Den'ze turned to face his sister, who wrinkled her nose in disgust. Confused, he sniffed the air as well, and nearly gagged when he realized what he was smelling, what was still on his pants from this morning.

"Den, do ya smell... Puke?" Themba asked, uncertain if it was indeed vomit or just the manure getting to her.

"Ah, well, I guess... I mean, I don'..."

"Whats dat stain on ya pants?" Themba asked, looking at him both accusingly and concerned, pointing to a fist-sized dollop of old, dried vomit.

"Ya see, dats from... Ahem... 'Cause, I, uh, wasn't feelin da best... Dis mornin', an', um, ya know, 'cause of some old-ish clam meat... And, I, er, it just kinda happened, and- Stop starin' at me!" Den'ze stammered, uncomfortable with her unflinching gaze, and unsure about how to lie to his baby sister.

"Well, why didn't ya say somethin', ya big blue moron! Get back ta bed! Mat'a gonna have my head if she finds out I been makin' ya work while ya be sick." Themba said, pushing him towards the front porch, "I'll ride Zol back to de village, an' don't worry, I won't tell Mat'a ya sick. As long as ya don't tell her I be makin' ya work, anyways."

Den'ze chuckled at her, "Don't cha worry. I won't say nothin' to her. Be safe, see ya in a few days." he said, and waved her off.

He waited on the steps until he could no longer see her in the distance, and then went back inside. He changed his pants, pulled on a shirt, and set about cooking lunch. After eating a little, he went to check on the girl, who was still asleep. Den'ze watched as her chest rose and fell in soft rhythm. Running his hands through his hair, he sighed.

'_What de Hell kinda mess did I get myself into?' _He wondered, then sat on the floor with his back to the edge of the bed, and waited for the girl to stir.


	5. Chapter 5

_Vanora_

Opening her eyes and stretching, Vanora smiled slightly when she saw the troll leaning against the bed, head tilted back, and snoring, rather loudly but peacefully. Quietly pulling the fur around her like a robe, she slipped down to the floor beside him. Taking the opportunity to get a good look at him, Vanora thought that maybe he wasn't as hideous as she first might have felt. Yes, his nose was overtly longer than anyone else's she had ever met before, and his features were sharp and exaggerated, but his tusks were much smaller than she heard they would be. Remembering the image of trolls her mother had imprinted upon her as a child, she laughed softly.

"_They are huge, my child! The smallest are as tall as an oak, with giant teeth, as big as branches. Thick, matted fur cover their motley bodies. The hair on their heads are knotted and full of vermin. Disease and death plague them. And they don't even follow the Light. Instead they are wanton heathens, sacrificing their own for their blood-thirsty Gods' enjoyment. They'll eat anyone or anything-"_

"_Anyone?" Vanora asked, eyes wide in terror._

"_Yes, my sweet, anyone. Me, you, even their children are not spared. Filthy, disgusting creatures. Ready to defile anything. Should all be slaughtered..." Mirine trailed off, ending the tirade._

Laughing again, Vanora couldn't help but notice this troll's hair was not matted, nor did it seem to have any 'vermin' inhabiting it. It was a vibrant red, thick and well groomed, shaped into something resembling a large Mohawk. His fur was nothing more than a soft blue peach-fuzz, and maybe he wasn't as tall as an oak, but he was most certainly a large specimen. Muscular, slim and almost comically lanky, Vanora decided he wasn't as terrifying as she first thought. She had been afraid of trolls all her life, thanks mostly to Mirine's rants against them and the other Horde races, but being in this close of proximity eased it a bit.

Listening to his contented chuffs, she sat for a while and watched him, having an internal debate of sorts. Shuffling closer, she leaned in next to him. Pensively biting her bottom lip, Vanora slowly extended a shaking hand, drawing it back when his breathing rhythm abruptly became faster. She waited a moment, and when his chest was rising and falling in slow unison, she reached out again. Tracing a frail finger along the curve of his tusk, from the reddened needle-point tip, to the intricately carved base, she was in awe. It was like Mammoth ivory, a beautiful cool off-white and smooth, yet it was slightly warm to the touch. They gave him a ferocious appearance, with their wicked curve and stained appearance.

She glided a finger along his strong jaw line, the harsh stubble prickling her soft flesh, moving towards his pierced ear. Before she knew what was happening, the troll grabbed her wrist, twisting her arm behind her back, and pinning Vanora to the rough wooden floor. The fur fell away from her body, her bare chest pressed against his, and for a split second she thought this was it. His face had transformed into a vicious snarl that sent deathly cold shivers through her body. Her fear was back in full force. Sucking in a final breath and shutting her eyes against the pain that was sure to come any moment now, she waited what felt like an eternity. Opening her eyes slowly, his almost demonic expression had melted away when he realized it was only her.

Muttering what could have only been apologies in his own language, he sort of pouted as he helped Vanora back up, covered her with the fur blanket again, and helped her back into the bed. Too scared to really stop him, he fussed over her like a wounded child, making sure her wrist was okay, checking her back for splinters, cuts or bruises, tsking when he found one. As her fear slowly faded again, the troll fluffed the pillows around her and ran to get a skin of water. Staring into his face, Vanora was shocked, and maybe even just slightly amused at the whole exchange. His expression, paired with the very purple shade his face became actually made her giggle a little. The troll's confusion over her amusement only added to the absurd hilarity of the situation. Laughing harder, she took the skin. It was just a misunderstanding. A potentially lethal misunderstanding, but one none-the-less.

"Thank you." She said loudly, slowly exaggerating the syllables. She hoped he'd understand if she spoke louder and longer. She placed the opening of the skin in her mouth, careful to avoid her cracked, sore lips and took a small sip.

"You well-come." The troll said in broken Common. Vanora choked on the water.

_Den'ze_

Jumping up to the bed beside the gasping girl, Den'ze smacked hard on her back and couldn't help but chuckle as he wiped up the spilt water and spit. The silly thing had even shot some out of her nose. He waited while the girl tried to regain her composure.

"Y-you," she coughed, "you speak Common?"

"Ya mon, jus' leetle bit. Not real good." Den'ze shrugged, he actually didn't expect her to be so shocked.

"But... Why didn't you-I mean, you could have said something. Anything. I-"

"Like wha'? Ya woulda jumped outta ya skeen eitha way. Jus' thought I give ya some time ta... Some time ta..." Den'ze was at a loss for the right word.

"Some time to what? Adjust?"

"Ya mon, dat de word. Ahjus'" Den'ze grinned sheepishly, "I said I talk it, but didn' say I talk it good."

The girl snorted at that, then grew quiet. She stared at him for a while, almost expectantly, like she was waiting for something. Den'ze stared back, he just wasn't sure why. The silence carried on for several minutes, until it was broken by the growl of her stomach. They both glanced down to her belly, and laughed a little.

"Soup?"

"By the Light, yes please!" She smiled at how quickly he moved across the room to the kitchen, "How long have I been with you? Here, I mean."

"Ah, mah-be, uh... Two, tree days?" His back was turned to her as he filled up a bowl, but he held up his hand to get the point across.

"Tree? Oh, you mean three. That makes just a tad more sense." She shook her head, "Three days, huh? Wow."

"'Wow' be right. Found ya on de beach. You be one big mess. Sleepin like a babe most o' de time though." Den said as he walked back to her and passed the bowl, "It not be some gourmet meal, but soup good for ya. Getcha strength up, be big n' strong." He explained, flashed her a huge smile and flexed his arms.

"Thank you, again." She smirked at his silliness, then hesitantly took a sip of the broth. It smelled fantastic and tasted just as good, but whatever meat might have been in it was grayish in colour, and nearly indistinguishable from the vegetables in look and texture. Den'ze knew he wasn't the greatest cook, but he also knew that the food would get her healing much faster than anything else he could think of at the moment.

"So, whacha name be?"

"Vanora, and you?"

"Va-noo-rah? Vanura..." He let the name roll of his tongue, "Va-nor-ah, Vanora." Den'ze grinned when she finally nodded in approval. He loved the sound of it, so foreign and beautiful, like nothing he had heard before. Well, maybe not nothing, it did sound like a Blood Elf name, but without all the dashes and apostrophes and snooty accent, "I be Den'ze, Vanora. A pleasure ta finally be meetin' ya." He held out hand.

"Den'ze, huh? The pleasure is all mine." Vanora took his hand and shook, outwardly pleased to have gotten his name right on the first try.

"So hows about ya tell ol' Den'ze how ya get 'ere?" He asked, unsure if he really wanted to know.

"You were the one who found me, why don't you tell me?"

"Ah, saucy aren't cha? Fine den; I found ya on da beach, washed up with de pieces of boat. Guessin' from de state of it, da boat was torn apart. Da storm?" Vanora nodded, "Ya most likely came from de Eastern Kingdoms, 'cause even some o' dem Human's from Theramore knows bitta Orcish. An' guessin' from de chains on ya wrists an' de marks on ya body, you be somebody's slave..."

"You are... Dead on, troll..." The girl was quiet for a moment, pensive, "What now? Will you try to return me?"

"Ta who? Da same people dat nearly got ya killed, or da same people dat sold ya to da people dat nearly got ya killed?" Vanora laughed sardonically, a short and painful sound Den'ze thought, "Da main ting I wanna do is make sure you be better before we do anyting else. And ta keep ya hid. You be on Horde Territory now, child. No matta how ya got 'ere, who ya are or who ya wit; You be an Alliance Human, you be dead in no time."

"So what exactly is the plan, then?"

"Plan?" Den'ze snorted, "Dunno one. We be wingin' it. If we fuck up, an' live, we just gonna try again, okies?

"Well, since you put it like that, how can I say no to something as fool proof as that," Vanora chuckled at Den'ze's confused expression, "Translation? _'Okies'_."


	6. Chapter 6

_Themba_

" Ya should be ashamed of yaself! Makin ya brudda work in da heat when he be sick! An' tryin' ta keep it from ya Mat'a! What be wrong witchoo, girl?" Erzuli was furiously grinding some herbs together in a pestle and mortar, not even watching as she scolded her youngest daughter. Themba bowed her head, hoping it would seem as if she were remorseful for her imaginary transgression. No dice.

"Mat'a, I'm sorry, but he be just a little stomach sick-"

"Sorry don't be cuttin' it, child." She grabbed more herbs and tossed them in the mortar, "Last ting we wants is for him to get da fever like ya sista did, Bwonsamdi guide her spirit." Themba felt a twinge of empathy at the invocation of her oldest sister. Themba never knew her, but according to Den'ze, she was a beautiful child, taken away by an unknown illness some months before her fourteenth summer.

"But Mat'a, its nothin' serious! He be fine in de mornin'. An' besides, he told me not ta tell ya! He knew you be worried if I did."

"Den he should be ashamed, too. He shoulda known I'd find out somehow. You just lucky Thabo knows not ta keep a damn ting from his Mat'a!" She poured the mixture into a little pouch, "Now, you go to him an' bring him 'dese. Brew a strong tea for him usin' da herbs, an' make sure he drink it all." Erzuli said as she handed the pouch to her daughter. Themba looked inside and sniffed, nearly gagging on the putrid scent.

"Ya sure dis won' kill him faster?"

"Don't get smart wit me, child! Now go on, get outta 'ere before I whoop ya ass some more. Make sure to get dere before sunset an' stay de night; ya don' wanna be out an' about at night wit dem Northwatch dirtbags patrolin'. An' make sure he be fine before ya comes home, okies?"

"Yes, Mat'a..." Themba said as she headed to her room to pack a rucksack. Thabo was there, lounging on his hammock, reading a Skinning guide. Themba shot him a murderous glance, "Ya had to tell de old woman, did ya?"

"I felt she shoulda known. Ya knows how she worries." He said indignantly, not even bothering to look up from his book.

"But Den tol' me not ta tell her, for dat exact reason, ya dumbass!" She shoved some clothes into the bag, trying to convince herself that striking her twin, while possibly the most entertaining and gratifying option, would not be the wisest decision right now, "Wat in da Nether is ya problem? You always gotta go tellin her wat we specifically tell ya not to. One o' dese days, when someting big goes down, ya gonna be left out in de cold, mon. I tink it be pretty damn bad when ya sista and brudda can't trust ya. Ya knows Den'ze gonna be pissed." Themba closed the bag and walked towards the doorway.

"Wateva, don' care. Not my problem, it be yours. Sooner or latah' you be runnin', cryin' when ya needs me." He smirked.

"Oh for fuck sakes. Go stand in da fire." She called to him as she stormed out of the house.

Zolani was still waiting patiently by the porch, as if she had overheard the whole exchange and knew Themba might need her.

"You be one o' da few I can count on, eh girl?" Themba whispered to the Raptor and patted her. She waved to her father, who was chatting intently with some Watchers, mounted up, and took off.

_Vanora_

"So..." She said, drawing it out, staring at her hands.

"'So...' What?"

"So, what happened to my dress?"

"Oh, dat. Ya dress." Den'ze rubbed the back of his head, "Well, ahem, ya see, it be soakin' wet, an' dirty, an' ya know, raggity... It not really be a suitable piece a clothing. So I had-I mean I decided... Well, I jus' figured it had ta go... So I..."

"So you what?" Vanora's cheeks were blazing red, but not out of embarrassment.

"I had ta cut it off. Didn't really wanna, but I thought it be da easiest way ta get it off ya..."

"That... _Raggity _dress was the _only_ thing I had left from my mother. She gave it to me before she died..."

"I be sorry! I mean dat, but it was cold! You woulda froze in da wet dress. Dis may be a desert, but it be gettin' pretty damn cool at night!"

"So you just expect me to prance around here completely naked for Light knows how long? How is that better than a raggity, dirty dress?" Vanora snapped.

"I-ah... It, uh... Er... Sorry?"

"Never mind!" she sighed impatiently, "Where are the scraps?"

"On de floor beside ya bed..."

"And the locket?"

"La-lock it?"

"Yes, locket. Its a necklace, shaped like a heart. It opens up and you can put something inside of it. I was wearing it when... Before the ship sank... Where is it?"

"I got no idea; dere be no lock-it when I found ya, dere be no lock-it now." Den'ze said sympathetically. Vanora's heart sank. Curiosity overrided her animosity, leaving her quietly perplexed. '_Why the Hell would that girl give it to me in the first place?' _she wondered.

"I could always... Make ya a new one... Dress, I mean..." Den'ze said tentatively, mistaking her silence for anger.

Before Vanora could respond, they heard heavy foot-steps approaching the house. Den'ze turned a pale blue, reached under the bed and produced a Dirk.

"_Get down, be quiet_." He whispered, placing a finger against his lips.

Vanora needed no other hint. She slid out of bed, ducking beside it. Den'ze crouched slightly, then noiselessly crept towards the door, the dagger hidden behind his back. The closer he got to the door, the farther under the bed Vanora slid. The rough wooden floor scratched her bare thighs and stomach as she pushed herself under the bed. Breathing slowly, deeply, Vanora tried to calm herself. Her heart was thumping so hard she was sure Den'ze could hear it.

The sound of footsteps stopped abruptly, replaced by hard breathing, and a chirping sort of noise. Den'ze straightened slightly, cocking an ear towards the door. He smirked and relaxed when a loud screech was heard. Vanora screamed and jumped at the fright, banging her head against the bed frame.

"Relax, mon. It only be Zolani." Den'ze said smoothly, as if he weren't just at the ready to attack.

"What the fuck is a Zol-whatever you said?" Vanora asked as she climbed out from under the bed, still shaking from the whole ordeal. She rubbed her head, which at the moment really hurt.

"Zo-La-Ni. She be my mount. A beautiful one at dat. My Raptor."

"A Raptor? Seriously? You have a freaking Raptor?"

"Ya, she my mount. Ya know, like a horse."

"I know what a mount is!" she snapped, "But why a Raptor?"

"Why not?" He shrugged, "Orcs have dere Wolves, Tauren got dere Kodos, we got our Raptors."

"And I thought the Gnomes were crazy..." Vanora muttered, shaking her head. Den'ze chuckled. She sat back on the bed, and wrapped the thin sheet back around herself. Den'ze strode over and sat next to her.

"Who did you think that was, just then?" She asked despondently.

"Dunno. No one really. Jus' bein' cautious."

"So your definition of caution is hiding someone under a bed while you grab a scary dagger and creep towards the door, ready to slice and dice whomever is on the other side?"

"Nah, I don't slice and dice; dat be a Rogue ting." He laughed at her puzzled expression, "Nevamind, da main ting is we gotta be _very_ cautious, we dunno who be out dere and wat dey be wantin'. Der be enemies everywhere. If anyone finds out I be hidin' you here... Well, lets jus' say it won't be pretty for eitha of us..."

"We can't really trust anyone, then, can we?" Vanora felt a tight feeling well up in her chest.

"Not really, no."

"Not even each other?"

"Well, I tink ya can trust me, and I be hopin' I can trust you."

"Despite the circumstances," Vanora said, taking his hand in hers, "I think you probably can." She smiled up at him. Den'ze looked down and saw tears pool in her eyes. Pulling her close, he ran his other hand through the tangles of her dark hair, murmuring beautiful sounding words in his language. They had both been through a lot in their short lives, but hers has been especially difficult. This particular day seemed to be the longest of her life, one of the hardest, maybe even one of the best. She had escaped her uncle and a life of brutal servitude, even a sure death, thanks to this strangely kind creature. She had even made something as close to a friend as she ever had in her whole, pitiful existence. Vanora had been given a second chance, a new beginning.

'_This Troll is risking everything to help me. I should be grateful... I just can't escape this feeling that it's about to get much worse...'_ She wondered.

As soon as that darkly possessing thought passed through her mind, the door creaked open.


	7. Chapter 7

_**Hey Guys! Sorry it took so long to update. Life tends to get in the way sometimes. Anyway, I'm back and will be updating as often as I possibly can. Promise! Hope you all enjoy!**_

_**-Magnolia**_

_Den'ze_

The silhouette of his sister poured onto the floor, inch by inch, making her appear all the more menacing than Den'ze thought she ever could be. He quickly pushed Vanora out of his arms and off the bed.

"_Get down and hide_... _Again_..." He whispered harshly. Begrudgingly, she obliged, clearly not pleased with being told to crawl under the musty, old bed again. Den'ze sat back, leaning against the headboard, trying to look as nonchalant as possible.

"Den?" Themba peaked her head around the door.

"Yeah, sista?"

"How ya feelin'? Betta?"

"Ya, mon, much." He nodded. Den'ze eyed her with suspicion, "Whatcha doin' 'ere so soon? An' wit da backpack?"

"Well, it be kinda funny, actually," Themba laughed awkwardly, " Ya see, I said ta Thabo, I said ya weren't feelin' too good dis mornin'..."

"An' he said ta Mat'a, an' den Mat'a handed ya yer ass on a silver platter." Den'ze snorted, "I hope ya didn' beat on da boy too 'ard. Ya know he only does it to keep us from gettin' inta worse trouble den if Mat'a found out on 'er own. So, wat de old woman send ta me?"

Themba reached into her rucksack, pulling out the little brown pouch.

"She said it be somethin' for ya stomach an' fever." Den'ze held out his hand as she said it, passing it to him, "Ya brew it, like a tea." Den nodded, thinking it might be good for Vanora.

"Tell her thanks when ya head back."

"Sure, no problem. Um, Den'ze?"

"Ya, Themba?"

"Who were ya talkin' to?"

"Huh? Oh, no one, just meself." Den'ze thought that explanation was pretty weak, even more so when he caught the odd looks his sister was giving him.

"Uh-huh... Well, I 'eard wat soun' like a scream ta me..."

"Ya girl, dat be me."

"Den, ya might wanna drink dat tea soona den lata, mon." Themba suggested lightly.

"Ha! Not like dat, ya whelp. Den'ze ain't goin' ova da deep end. Jus' readin' out loud. Anyway, ya betta be headin' back. It be gettin' late, my little Medicine-girl."

"Well, about dat... I'm not."

"Wha?"

"Mat'a said I gotta stay de night..."

_Vanora_

Vanora lay hidden for quite some time. Her legs and back were starting to cramp. She was beginning to feel cold, and the amount of dust under there was wreaking havoc with her breathing. Each breath seemed shorter; her throat felt thick, and her lungs full. Shifting slightly, Vanora tried to get comfortable. She had pulled down a small blanket with her, yet it was providing little warmth. She pressed her cheek to the floor, trying to see what was going on. The blankets on the bed nearly reached to the floor, making it impossibly to see anything but big, ugly troll feet. Thankfully it obscured her from the other troll's sight, as well.

Vanora listened intently, trying to figure out whatever it was they were heatedly discussing. All Vanora really could distinguish was the word _Mattah, _and Light be damned if she knew what that meant. It was clear Den'ze was agitated, but by what she couldn't tell. It obviously wasn't this other troll, as it seemed they had embraced each other at one point.

'_Well, maybe not _embraced,_' _Vanora thought,_ 'but judging by their feet, they certainly got close...' _She imagined that for a moment she had felt a twinge of jealousy, but shook it off, disregarding it as annoyance towards this other woman, barging in and taking over, _'I mean, this isn't even_ her _house! She doesn't even knock, or in anyway announce the visit. She just waltzes on in. Who does that? Does everyone here lack tact and manners?' _Vanora sighed in disgust.

She was about to start on another mental tirade about this unknown Troll-woman, when Vanora felt something brush up against her leg. Thinking it was dust, she ignored it, until it began to slither across her leg and up her thigh. Glancing over her shoulder, her eyes widened as she started hyperventilating and her whole body began to tremble.

_Den'ze_

"Themba, I don't care wat Mat'a said, ya jus' can't stay 'ere tonight!"

"Really? Like ya said, it be getting late, an' dark. Do ya really wan' me ta get lost on de way back an' run inta some of da Nor'watch? How d'ya wanna 'splain dat one ta Mat'a, huh?" Themba sneered, "Ya do rememba wat dey did ta Wassai last mont'?" Den'ze grimiced; Wassai, a very young girl from Echo Islands, was out, alone, at night near the old Kolkar Crag, now known as the Northwatch Foothold. She had run into a group of Alliance, running supplies to the various base camps. They viciously beat her to within inches of her life, healed her, and did it again. After they got bored of that, they brought her back to their camp... Three days later, they tied her, naked and nearly dead, to a horse, and sent it off in the direction of Sen'jin. The watchers rushed her to Razor Hill, then off to Orgrimmar. No one had seen or heard from her since, nor did they find out the reason why she was out there in the first place. Her parents refused to say anything to anyone, except Vol'jin and Warchief Hellscream. Den'ze sat on the edge of the bed, ran his hands through his hair and sighed.

"Look, take Zol, you'll have plenty'a time! Jus' please go!" He pleaded. Themba looked hurt, and was about to respond when they heard a thump. Her eyes narrowed as she peered at her oldest brother.

"Den'ze, wat was-" She was cut off by another thump, and then another.

All of a sudden, Vanora scrambled out from under the bed, screaming like a Harpy. She leapt about the room, swiping at the back of her body yelling "Get if off! Get it off!"

Out of the corner of his eye, Den'ze spied an Adder, slipping away as fast as possible. He just sat there with a painfully blank expression, absolutely dumbstruck, while Themba, standing next to her, was stunned into silence, something that rarely if ever happened. Unsure of what to do, she glanced at her brother, who shrugged, placed a palm over his face, and sighed.

Suddenly Vanora stopped, turned to Den'ze, staggered, and faintly smiled.

"B-big Ss-snake..."She stuttered, before collapsing to the floor.

_Themba_

"A HUMAN? A fuckin' pink-skin! Wat in de Hell is wrong witchoo?" Themba screamed at her brother, "Are ya insane? Do ya know what could happen to ya? To ME!"

"Well, I didn't really plan on lettin' ya know..."

"An' ya didn't tink I'd find out?" She asked him mockingly.

"Dis is why I wanted ya ta go 'ome, so ya wouldn't 'ave ta see dis."

"Yeah, well, you coulda said someting instead a' tryin ta hide it!"

"Like wat? Ya woulda pestered me 'til I tol' ya anyway! Now you can choose ta leave, blab it ta everyone ya see an' watch as I'm hauled before Hellscream an' executed, or ya can shut up an' help me!" Den'ze snapped, but smiled as she passed him the blanket on the floor.

Themba waited quietly as she watched her brother gently picked up the unconscious girl, and place her on the bed. He tucked a blanket around her and felt her forehead.

"Why'd she faint?"

"Dunno... No fever, no blood, no bite marks. Dat Adder she saw was pretty harmless. I tink it musta jus' been 'er nerves."

"Nerves? Ha! Ya mean she be afraid of a leetle snake, mon" Themba remarked derisively.

"She not be a _seasoned_ _fighter_, like ya self," Den'ze jeered, "She jus' a simple peasant."

"Den wat in de name of Shadra are ya doin' wit da girl?"

"Savin' 'er, I guess." He simpered at his sisters confused expression, "I found 'er, Vanora, on de beach. Da storm sank da boat she was on, an' I knew I jus' couldn't leave 'er dere, so I took da girl in..."

"Well, aren't choo a White Knight. I s'pose ya gonna be helpin' 'er get back ta wherever she gotta be?"

"Nah, mon, she don't wanna go back. If ya hadn't noticed, she got chains on 'er wrists; Vanora be a slave."

Themba gazed at the girl, unexpectedly taken in by her. She was so puny and sickly looking. '_What good would she be as a slave?'_ Themba wondered. Then it dawned on her, just what kind of slave Vanora would have been. She wasn't ready for the ill feeling that washed over her. The thought of what this tiny girl would have been put through made her sick to her stomach. Themba sat beside the girl and went to work picking the locks on the chains. Dropping them beside the bed, she grabbed her bag, pulled out a one of her shirts, a sleeveless, blue top, and a brown, simple lace-up skirt. Eying the girl, she strode over to the kitchen, grabbed a knife, and sliced the skirt to what she thought would be a proper length for Vanora. The top would have to wait until she woke up. She tossed it beside the bed, and caught Den'ze watching her intently.

"Wat? She can't be prancin' 'round 'ere naked." Themba hissed. Den'ze chuckled, and then sat on the floor beside the bed. Themba joined him.

"Watcha gonna do wit 'er?" She asked after some time.

"Keep 'er 'til she decides wat she wanna do..."

"Well, we gonna need a plan, mon." Den'ze was not surprised when said she 'We'. Themba would follow her brother to the ends of Azeroth if he asked her to. It was one of the reasons why he sometimes called her his Little Shadow.

"Oh yeah, we got one, darlin'; we be wingin' it." He beamed at his sister. Themba couldn't help but laugh and smile back. It was Den's plan for everything, and, ridiculously enough, it usually worked, "Anyway, we might as well be headin' to bed. She probably be gonna out for da rest of da night. Dat girl spends more time faintin' den Thabo." He chuckled, "You take da spare, an' I'll sleep on de floor beside 'er. I gotta make sure Zol is locked up, den bolt de door."

"Alrightie. Nite, brudda."

"G'nite, ya pest!" He called back as he unfurled a sleeping mat.

_Vanora_

Den'ze checked on Zolani, made sure the door was secured and then finished setting up the mat. He sat down and watched Vanora for a moment, smiling.

"_Is she gone yet?_" She whispered, still feigning unconsciousness. Den'ze listened for a moment, and picked up the muted notes of his sister's snoring.

"_Nah, mon, she be asleep." _He whispered back in an exaggerated tone, "Don't worry much, darlin', she sleeps like a corpse."

"Who is she? And why did she just barge on in here? And why was she all over you?" Vanora demanded, her annoyance and anger coming full bloom again.

"She be my baby sista, Themba. She wasn't all ova me, whateva dat means." Den'ze said evenly, "An' she has more of a right dan you ta be here, girl." Vanora bridled her temper, "Ya betta be grateful to 'er, too." Den'ze reached over and passed the clothes to her, "She gave ya dese, an' if ya hadn't noticed, she picked de locks on ya wrists." Vanora blushed as she inspected the shirt and skirt, embarrassed at her initial animosity towards the Troll-woman.

"Why would she do that?" Vanora asked as she got up and sat beside him.

"Themba said ya can't be prancin' 'round naked, an' she be right. If we're found out, people might tink da wrong tings. Come 'ere," Den'ze said, taking the shirt back, "Arms up." He urged, pulling the shirt over her arms and head. Looking her over, Den nodded and grinned, "Not bad, not bad... Kinda big, but we can fix dat in da mornin'."

Looking down at herself, Vanora blushed again; the neck was low, coming in barely above her breasts, the arm holes were huge, exposing the side of her chest and ribs.

"At least it's long..." She muttered, standing up to find that it fell nearly to her ass. Den'ze stood up and grabbed a large glass mirror from behind the armoire. Positioning the mirror against it, in front of Vanora, he stepped back behind her. He placed a hand on her back of the shirt and the other on her hip, to keep her still, and pulled it tight.

He brushed her dark hair away from her neck, and leaned in close to her ear, _"Betta?"_ He whispered and laid both hands on her back again. His breath on her neck and ear was like an electric shock. Vanora felt a heat well up in her, familiar yet exotic. She was extremely taken aback by her body's reaction, and, trying to hide it, hoped Den'ze had not noticed it either.

"Well, it's a bit better, just a tad too tight..." Vanora remarked shakily, then fell silent when her eyes locked with Den'ze's. His reflected gaze felt like a fire, burning into her own. Mild fear trickled down her spine but was quickly doused by her trust in him. As she turned to him, he brushed his hands across her bare thighs, then wraped them around her waist, nearly encircling it. Gazing up, Vanora was in awe of his sheer mass. He looked wild, untamed and unhampered. Intimidation and savagery oozed from his every pore, yet she knew he would never harm her. Not purposely.

Standing almost _en pointe, _she tenderly kissed the underside of his chin. Chuckling, Den'ze sat back on the bed, eye, and lip, level with her. Vanora's face slowly reddened as he pulled her towards him. Her whole body flushed; she felt weak, almost dizzy. Not knowing what to do, or say, she allowed Den to take her in his arms. He gently kissed her, first on the forehead, then temple, making his way down to her cheek, jaw, and finally nape. His tusks grazed against her collar bone as he leaned into her. Vanora gasped when his mouth met her skin, and closing her eyes, she let his soft, hypnotic lips carry her away.

_Den'ze_

Den'ze had no idea what came over him. One moment, he was helping Vanora dress, the next he wanted to ravage her into oblivion. He massaged his hands up and down her thighs and ass, savouring touch of the soft flesh against his own calloused hide. Placing his hands under her ass, Den lifted her onto his lap. Wrapping her legs around his torso, and arms around his neck, Vanora tilted her head back, moaning in ecstasy. He smiled against her neck as he lay back, then rolled over, pinning her to the bed.

With his hands now free, Den'ze explored her body, running them all over. Her whimpering was driving him mad. He wanted nothing more than to rip the shirt from her body and take her right here, right now, but restrained himself. Barely. He let his teeth graze her supple skin and delighted in the gasps and cries it drew from her lips. Vanora gripped his hair with sweat-slick hands, trying to smother the sounds into his shoulder.

He began to work on getting rid of his and her shirts, pulling away from Vanora's body, leaving her panting and empty. Den'ze got rid of his first, and then tugged the hem of hers up, when Vanora grabbed his wrists.

"Den'ze, wait..." She pleaded, her voice out of breath and faltering.

"Why? Whats wrong?" Den'ze questioned with a puzzled look.

"I... We just met. I'm not sure, I mean I don't think..." Vanora shied away, unable to meet his eye.

Den'ze sighed, still not really understanding what was going on, but also not wanting to push or rush the girl. He lay back down beside her and took her in his arms again. They both grew quiet, their rough panting giving way to steady breaths and silence.

"I'm sorry." She whispered some time later.

"For what?" He mumbled into her hair.

"For not being ready, for leading you on... I really am sorry."  
"Stop it, mon. No need ta be sorry. I da one who be sorry. I shouldn't 'a rushed ya. I dunno what came ova me." He stated, his words laced with a small amount of embarrassment and shame.

"It wasn't just you, I wanted it, too." She reassured him, trying to make sense of what had transpired and why, "We don't even really know each other..."

"But we will." Den'ze countered, "We gonna take our time, no hurryin', no pressure. Jus' nice an' slow. We got all de time in da world, girl."

Vanora buried her face into his chest and smiled half-heartedly.

"Liar." She retorted, "We have a few days, maybe a week if we're lucky. You said so yourself; anyone else finds out I'm here, we're dead."

"Exactly, plenty 'a time ta make ya love me." Chuckled Den'ze.


	8. Chapter 8

_**Again, Sorry for the lack of updates, guys! Really, really trying my damndest to keep up with everything! Thanks for hanging in there! You are all amazingly awesome!**_

_** -Magnolia**_

_Vanora_

Vanora awoke, bleary-eyed and languid. Stretching, she rolled over, surprised to find Den'ze wasn't there. She quietly slid out of bed and called out to him but received no answer. Grabbing the skirt off the armoire, she laced it up and called to him again. Still no answer, but this time she could hear yelling outside. Concerned and curious, Vanora quickly tied back the curtains and wandered out to the porch.

There, standing in a small patch of soil, was a filthy Den'ze, holding a hoe triumphantly above his head, while an equally filthy Themba sat in the dirt at his feet, spewing what could have only been curses. Vanora chuckled at the scene.

"You two are filthier than a clan of Elwynn Kobolds!" Vanora called out.

Den's face lit up when he saw her standing there. He dropped the hoe, accidentally hitting his sister with it, and ran to her.

"Finally awake, eh, Sleepin' Beauty?" He teased as he embraced her, "It be almost lunch time, mon. Ya must be hungry."

Vanora blushed at the display of affection, but gently pushed him away when she caught the murderous glace Themba shot her. She cleared her throat, still eyeing the Troll woman, patted his arm, and slipped back inside. Looking between the two women, Den'ze laughed loudly.

"Don'cha mind 'er. Themba jus' cranky dat I beat 'er in a wrestlin'match." Den'ze snickered.

"What were you two doing?"

"Attemptin' ta get along. An' garden."

"I can see how that worked out." Vanora shook her head, amazed at the obviously competitive nature of the siblings.

"Ya, well, it woulda gone bettah if she jus' let me have da damn hoe. Anyway, she be leavin' now. Go on, take a seat while I saddle up Zol for 'er. Unless... Ya wanna meet my little girl?" He asked hopefully.

"Really? Me meet a real, live Raptor?" Excitement and apprehension tinged her voice.

"Ya, mon, why not? Ya gonna be ridin' 'er when we leave, anyway."

"Leave? What? Well I, I guess, but... M-maybe we should wait for night fall. Just to be sure I won't be seen?"

"Suit ya self, mon," Den'ze shrugged, "I be back in a few. Dere be some cheese an' flatbreads on da counter, help ya self." He kissed her forehead, growled something at Themba, who was still giving them a nasty look, and shut the door behind them. Vanora sighed.

'_This is one Heck of a family...'_ She thought, before wandering back into the kitchen for breakfast.

_Den'ze_

"Ya betta know whatcha doin' mon." advised Themba, "She be a Human. Not exactly some one Mat'a, or Pad'a, will approve of, Den." She waited for a response, and then pressed on when she received none, "Have ya thought it through, brudda? No one 'round 'ere will accept it. Besides, ya only met 'er a few days ago. An' she only been conscious since yestaday. Da girl is damaged goods, mon. Only da Great Spirits know wat she been through, an' how ta help 'er outta it."

Den'ze ignored his sister, saying nothing as he placed the saddle on Zolani's back, tightening and adjusting it.

"Brudda, please, listen ta me! Ya can't get involved wit da likes of dat girl, Lanora, or who eva she is. Ya said ya self, she be a slave. 'Er Masta gonna come soona or latah, lookin' for 'er. Whacha tink he gonna do if 'e sees ya messin' wit his property?" Themba vented.

"Its Vanora, not Lanora. An' wats wit da sudden change 'a heart, sista? Las' night ya seemed more dan willin' ta help 'er. Ya gave 'er clothes an' got the chains offa 'er, for fucks sake. Now, ya tryin' ta convince me ta wha? Jus' dump 'er somewhere? Leave de poor girl at da mercy a' elements an' 'er enemies? She be dead in no time. Ya wan' dat on ya conscious? Do ya wanna be responsible for 'er death?" Den'ze asked scathingly.

"Den'ze, dats not wat I meant, I-"

"I don' care whacha meant. It be heartless, even for a Rouge. Eitha ya gonna help me, or not."

"Ya know I'm gonna help ya, I jus hope ya know whacha gettin' us into."

"No, I don' know. I don' wanna know, eitha. If I did, I might not do it. But she needs help."

"We da ones who gonna need help at da end of dis..." Themba gloomily remarked as she mounted the Raptor.

"I know... Look, we probably gonna be leavin' at da end of the week. Dat gives ya a few days ta get ya stuff in order, an ta come up wit some ting ta tell Mat'a."

"Where we headin'? An, wait, why do I gotta be da one ta lie ta de old Harpy?"

"Ratchet. Its neutral, probably safer. An' 'cause ya be a betta liar dan betta make it a good one, too." Grinned Den'ze.

Before Themba could even respond, Den'ze slapped Zol's backside, and the Raptor took off.

"Don' forget ta send 'er back!" He yelled after her.

_Booty Bay_

"What do you mean you can't find the _Low Gale_?" growled the Goblin.

"I-I mean, the vessel, Sir, the _Low Gale_ did not, ahem, arrive at d-dock as expected, sir." Stammered the terrified grunt, "We believe it may, ah, may have cast down, Sir."

"_Cast down_? What the Hell does that mean? I'm not a damned sailor, you moron!" He pounded his fist against the heavy desk.

"Yes, Sir, sorry, Sir. Cast down; um, wrecked, Sir. Capsized, touched bottom, Sir. She went down, Sir, and not in a good way." One of the other grunts behind him sniggered. The Orc guard standing beside the Goblin shot him a murderous glance.

"Grog, get rid of him." The Goblin ordered.

"Gladly." The guard snorted, and escorted the now-shaking young man out. The Goblin turned his attention back to the other young human in front of him.

"Now then, I don't like being patronized, boy-"

"No, Sir, of course not! I didn't mean-"

"I dislike being interrupted even more!" The Goblin shouted, standing up on his chair. The grunt turned a sickly green, "Now, tell me, where did she go down?"

"We think-"

"I don't want to know what you think! What you think is useless to me." He spat. The guard, now with bloodied hands, quietly slipped back into the room and nodded to the Goblin, who smirked and nodded back, "Good. Now, tell me again; Where?"

"Of-off the coast of Durotar, Sir!"

"Is there any sign of our 'cargo'?"

"No, Sir, . We-we've heard rumours in Orgimmar and surrounding areas, Sir, of p-pieces of a vessel washing up along the shores. We've sent men o-out to take a look, Sir."

"Wonderful. If any of my cargo are still alive, I want them brought back. If not, destroy the remains."

"Yes, Sir!" The man saluted shakily, and left.

The Goblin turned to the barrel-chested Orc.

"Grog, get in touch with you're contacts in Orgimmar. Don't tell them any more than they need to know. I'd rather not have any more people know about it than necessary. Discretion is key."

"Of course, Sir."

"I also want you to start getting my money back. Those lousy bastards knew when they signed the contracts that if anything were to happen to my cargo on the way, they would forfeit their earnings." He threw Grog a list of names.

"Of course, Sir, as you wish..." Grog saluted.

Once out of Halfwrench's office, he silently read the list. Most of the names he recognized, but one stood out in particular; Darin Lechings. He sold Halfwrench his daughter, or niece, what ever she was. A dark-haired, pale beauty, with haunting grey eyes and lips like blood. Grog remembered the tiny girl's tear-streaked face, the way she cried out when he grabbed her by the hair, and how her body shook with sobs as he held her down against the boss's desk...

As 's second-in-command, it was Grog's privilege, honour and duty to sample what ever goods the boss might be dealing with, be they weapons, drugs, or girls. Especially the girls.

He smiled to himself, a fearsome expression, and very much hoped that Darin's girl had at least made it out alive.


	9. Chapter 9

_Themba_

Sitting on the sandy bank, her back to the village, the young rogue was deep in thought. Her eyes, and memories, rested on the Echo Isles. The islands were reclaimed barely a year ago, and though Themba was too young to join the fight, she remembered it vividly; she and Thabo had snuck along. They got lost in the crowd, careful to stay out of danger, and Den'ze's sight.

The noise was overwhelming, and they almost didn't hear the call to move out. They flowed with the masses, treading carefully across the water. She remembered reaching the first isle, where a large skull pile laid waiting, ominous and welcoming at once. Themba could still see Vol'jin, their wise and powerful leader, kneel before it, and hear him whispering nearly forgotten, archaic words. Like the winds of Northrend, a chill swept across the beach, billowing forth from the ancient ivory. The cold enveloped all of them, Orc, Troll, Tauren and Blood Elf alike.

"_Who be stirrin'up MY bones_?" An otherworldly, deep voice yelled out, shaking the ground around them. Thabo, who was already scared enough as it was, paled considerably, and gripped Themba's arm, pulling her away from the scene. As badly as she wanted to stay, to watch, she relented and left, swimming back to Sen'jin with her brother. But the memory of that voice, and what it meant, still stuck with her. It was the closest she had ever come to a real Loa, until last night.

Until last night...

She shook her head. It was just a dream, a meaningless dream. An overtly real, lucid, and foreboding dream, but all the same, it was still just a dream. Yet...

"Wat be troublin' ya, my child?" Thezza'jin's voice jerked her out of the daze. Her father sat down beside her, and placed a comforting arm around her shoulders, drawing her close. "It be chilly out 'ere, girl. Ya shoulda grabbed a blanket. Can't let my only daughter freeze before I getta chance ta marry 'er off."

"Nah, it's not too cold, I ain't gettin' married, EVER." Themba hesitated, "An' I'm not ya only daughter. I'm jus' the only livin' one..."

"If ya ask me, life be more important den death, child. An' don' dodge de question. It be rude."

"I'm fine, Pad'a..."  
"No, ya not. Don' go lyin' ta ya dear old Pad'a." He admonished, "It be unbecomin', or so ya Mat'a yells me."

"Ya mean 'tells', she _tells_ ya it be unbecomin'."

"No, I meant 'yells'." Thezza'jin chuckled, "Stop avoidin' da question, girl. Whacha tinkin'?"

'_Uncertainty'. _"Nothin' Pad'a."

"Dere ya go again, lyin' ta ya own flesh an' blood. Second chance, girl."

'_Pain. Loss. Death.' "_Not a damn ting, old mon."

Her father chuckled again, quieter, lower.

"T'ird time's da charm, or say dey say. Whacha brudda gotten his dumb, blue ass in now?" His prying eyes narrowed on her. Themba looked away, and for a moment couldn't speak. Her mouth went dry.

'_Did he know...?'_

"Th-Thabo's fine, Pad-"

"It not be Thabo I'm talkin' about, my girl, an' ya know it." He whispered.

Themba couldn't respond. The young woman wanted nothing more than to climb onto her father's lap and cry and tell him everything. But she couldn't. Her loyalty to her oldest brother wouldn't allow it.

"De Watchers say dey saw Den'ze 'ad a visitor. Dey tinkin' she be a Blood Elf. Lots 'o de young men in de village are takin' up wit dem lately... But I know my oldest son, an' he 'as about as much love for dem snooty twigs den he got for da Gnomes." His gaze was unrelenting, "Dis... _Visitor..._ Den'ze got, she wouldn't 'appen ta 'ave anyting ta do wit de wreckage de Watchers said dey found on da beach... Would she?"

Themba sucked in a sharp breath. Her eyes wide, she shook her head. "... No..."

"My daughter. My _only_ daughter." Thezza'jin murmered soothingly, "I'd hate ta lose ya over someting I could help wit. But I can't help ya if ya won't tell me wats goin' on..." He took her hand in his, "Tell me. Please."

_Vanora_

The next few days seemed to pass in a flurry of packing and planning. As she had no real belongings or ties to anyone there, Vanora sat idly by as Den'ze and Themba did most of the work, which was just fine by both of them.

Den'ze would disappear into Orgimmar for a day or two, auctioning off items he didn't need or want, buying supplies that they would and saying goodbye to some old friends and Guildmates. Themba would stay with her then, and despite their differences, Vanora enjoyed the company of another woman. In fact, she actually welcomed the surly Troll by then; she craved the companionable solitude Themba allowed her, and tired of spurring Den's advances, his sister seemed to curb them when she was around. As much as Vanora cared about him, she just wasn't ready for what he wanted to give her, no matter how sincere he was in his feelings.

The night before they set out, Den'ze and Vanora were huddled on the floor by the hearth, discussing the next day's plans. She was wrapped in a woollen blanket, and he in nothing but shorts that hung loosely on his hips. Vanora could see the trail of deep red hair from his belly button down, dipping below the lacings that barely held the garment up. Unaware of it, she would blush each time her gaze landed there.

Whether or not Den'ze noticed, he didn't say. He drew an arm around her, pulling her into the crook of his, and rested his chin on her sweet smelling hair. A silence fell upon them, all at once both awkward and at ease.

She leaned into him, pressing her face against his chest, inhaling his exotic yet now familiar scent, listening to the drumming of his heart. Vanora realized that at that moment, there was no other place she would rather be, and no other place meant for her.

A deeply satisfied rumble came from him, as if he, too, had just come to that same conclusion. Without a word, he picked her up, cradling her tiny frame against his chest. He made his way towards the bed. She finally understood that old saying about butterflies; a fluttering started, from her chest, spiralling downward.

Den'ze gingerly laid her down, and climbed in beside her. He held her, brushing his lips against her forehead. He massaged and caressed her back, neck and arms, running his fingers along her body so softly it was nearly unbearable. He undressed her without her realizing it, and before she knew it, their naked bodies pressed against each other, her too thin frame pinned beneath his too large one.

They didn't make love. They didn't need to. Den'ze touched and explored, never below the neck or hips, but everything in between. He kissed her stomach, her arms, and legs, nearly everywhere, yet their lips never met.

_Den'ze_

Afterwards, he held her, stroking her back and hair, calming her until she fell asleep.

He crept out of bed, and went back to the fire. He sat, staring into flames, contemplating the unjustness of it all; Den'ze had finally found someone who could quell his restlessness, who made him feel wanted and complete. Never mind that he had only known her a few days, he felt as if their lives were entwined, fates interlocked. How unfair it was that they would be from different races, religions, cultures and warring factions. It didn't occur to him that under any other circumstance, they might not have met, nor if they did, would they have even liked each other. Instead he just focused on the joke that destiny seemed to have played on them.

He was interrupted from his disconcerting thoughts by a sudden, sharp knock on the door.

"Whatcha want?" he called out.

"I wantcha ta open dis damn door!" was his sister's terse answer.

Den'ze smiled, opening the door wide. Themba was obscured by an armload of massive sacks and boxes.

"Ya gonna help me, or ya gonna just stand dere like an idiot?"

He laughed at her indignant tone, and taking the largest box, ushered her in. His eyes followed her as he went to shut the door. A strong hand held it open.

"Pad'a?" Den exclaimed, "W-whatcha doin' 'ere dis late? Won't M-Mat'a be worried?"

"Don' worry son. I tol' 'er I was helpin de Watcher's an' won' be back 'til late." The old, grizzled Troll shuffled in, "Themba tol' me aboutcha problem. Open de box, boy. I'm sure it'll help."

Confused and anxious as to what 'problem' his baby sister might have told him about, he sat down and did as he was told. Inside the box were a few dozen vials of a glowing, green potion, some clothes in silk and velvet and other fabrics, make up, combs, clips and jewellery. At the very bottom of the box, wrapped in cushioning fur, were a set of realistically fake Blood Elf ears. Den'ze looked up, a quizzical expression on his face.

Thezza'jin laughed, "Dis should help ya problem, son. Don' be mad at Themba, I'da figured it out some'ow, but ya shoulda come ta me first. Ya know I'da helped ya. Now, my girl," he said, turning to Themba, "Go get de girl..." Themba got up to fetch Vanora, but stopped when the Human girl suddenly appeared beside her. She was dressed again in the clothes Themba gave her.

Vanora looked alarmed at the presence of the other Troll. Thezza'jin strode to her, taking her hand, he stooped graciously, and said in perfectly fluent Common, "You must be Vanora. I am Thezza'jin, Den'ze and Themba's father. It's a pleasure to finally meet you, my lady."


	10. Update

Hi guys.

Long time no hear, eh? Sorry about that, by the way, a lot of things happened at once, continuously, and let's just say it sucked. If you want a better explanation, go to my dA page. The shorthand version is my Grandmother died yesterday. After years of battling Parkinson's, a disease that shows no pity or remorse, she finally lost. My husband and I had been taking care of her for the last few years. Her funeral is tomorrow, and then after that we have to go through the will, and all those things suddenly deemed important and necessary when someone dies. Its all bullshit, but whatever. She said some things she needed to say in that will, and I'd like to hear 'em. Anyway, I'll hopefully be back in a week or two. Probably two. In the mean time, I need to find me a new beta. Volunteers are totally welcome. And once again, I'm really sorry. I mean that. Thanks for sticking around.

- Magnolia 3

EDIT/ Sorry to get you're hopes up with a new chapter. Two weeks. Swear on my kid's life. Two weeks, and you will have one. If I get a new beta, that is...


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